Exactly The Same
by x Veela x
Summary: Molly Weasley was worried about the success of the twins' joke shop, but should she have been more worried about its customers?


_Disclaimer: Yes Tom Felton is hot, I know, but sadly I don't own him, Draco or any others of the Harry Potter world, but seriously, who would WANT to, I mean it's not as if anyone LIKES Harry Potter ANYWAY…_

**I know, I should be updating Who Killed Lockheart, Through a Tinted Veil, The Last Laugh, Tears of Sadness Tears of joy, So you want to be a Death Eater, So Near So Far, Mistress Mine, I wish she said what I though I heard, Hogwarts A History, and Caring and Sharing… but I wanted to get this posted so I didn't forget about it. I promise I will update the other 10 eventually…**

**Exactly the Same**

_Chapter One – She is a Weasley_

Her teeth bit at her lip; she was not going to spend another night crying over him.

One of the most powerful wizards in the world had sacrificed his life, the scales of war were tipping towards the other side, her eldest bother might be a werewolf, her youngest brother was heading off to fight in what promised to be one of the biggest battles in modern history, her mother and father had started arguing again about said brother, Hermione was finally moving a tiny pace forward with said love of her life and so now was going to be going off to fight said war with him… This list went on, and Ronald Bilius Weasley was at the root of it all. She spat the name out.

Then again, was it really his fault that Harry was being noble… again. She needed someone to blame, she couldn't bear the fault as her own. What had she done to deserve the hand of cards she had been dealt? She had left herself fall into the world of fantasy; a world that trapped her, captured her mind, and her body was starting to conform too.

She would check to see that she was alone before acting out a scene in her head that she had been dreaming about earlier. She would whisper so as not to be heard. She would prance from one side of the room to the other, speaking for herself and the others in her play. Her characters would always do what she wanted; those subjects who, in flesh and blood, would turn to, or away from her. When she heard the click of footsteps on the stone floor approaching her, she would leap over to the mirror, trying to control her rapid breathing, whilst pretending she was brushing her hair.

She had spent many hours making excuses to have the dorm to herself. In that time she frolicked about, swaggering over to her mirror to check her "appearance", parading around in some imaginary costume sparkling with jewels, sequins, with cascades of silk and lace fluttering behind her.

She was turning into someone else; the world around her spiralled into a pit of despair whilst her world flourished like a rose. And really, a rose she was. To another's eye she was just Ginny Weasley, Ron's little sister; the twins' little sister; Percy's younger sister; Charlie's baby sister; Bill's baby sister. The Weasley Girl. The Weasel. Her family constantly tied her down; she had no freedom for herself. She had freedom only if she did what _they_ wanted. She was free to walk and talk...but they were always watching over her.

Her life was at a standstill, she was no further on than she was five years before – she still was just a little girl, with little girl concerns about little girl goings-on. With a little girlish crush on the most famous wizard in her life… maybe now, she wasn't even in his life. But he was in hers.

Her resolved strengthened as she looked around her to check that the girls around her were fast asleep, before creeping out of the smooth sheets, pushing aside the blanket and twirling around and around in from of the large reflective surface. She thought she heard a pitiful sigh from the mirror, but she was far too gone for it to register in her mind. Her eyes were fixed upon her petite form spinning, her nightgown flowing out around her mid thigh in a circle as her bare feet carried her on their path. She collapsed silently onto the fluffy blanket, the bed turned down as she left it, so that she leant forward to balance herself on the uneven material. One hand clutched at her mouth to muffle her heavily, irregular breaths. She threw her head back onto the pillow, her hair splayed around her; she no more felt like crying.

-

Ginny pushed some cereal around in a bowl, pressing on the flakes so the milk poured over them, taking away their crisp appearance. Her mind focused on the doors. Big, wide, oak doors that had seen the world come and go. Good or bad, small or tall, weak or strong, whether physically or emotionally. The hallway through them faded into shadow as murky clouds covered the windows, their sinister disposition replicated by the ceiling above her.

He walked through the doors, out of the darkness towards her, his face being lit up by candles, growing brighter and brighter as he approached her. She would not cry. He gave a smile and a small wave. He was about to turn to slide a leg over the bench opposite her, when Professor McGonagall beckoned imperiously to him. She weakly returned his smile, and watched him pace up to the long table full of teachers, longing to brush down those few strands of black hair that insisted on standing upright. But then again, now that she thought about it, his hair wouldn't really look that good out of his "messy school-boy" outward show. In fact she didn't think she really needed it…

All her previous boy friends before had been weaker than her, either in their strength of character or strength of mind. She needed someone…different. Someone that was used to other people doing things for him, getting his own way, someone…someone... like _him_. Her eyes had fixed on the Slytherin table.

But no. How could this be? She is a Weasley; she did not mix with the likes of Malfoy. He was a heart throb – only a girlish crush material. She had heard the stories many times before. Mothers would say "Don't go near him" because, quite clearly, he is dangerous… Although that is what makes him so… appealing. Ginny sighed, she knew that Malfoy would just use her to ruin her family name and she would get hurt in the process. He was set aside for fervent beauties – of the Slytherin variety. Of course, word had gotten around that few Ravenclaws had had their turn, but had been left tattered to pieces afterwards. No.

She was just not allowed Draco.

_**Reviews welcomed, praise, cc, flames welcomed.**_

_**Just review.**_

_**Love,**_

_**x Imperial Princess x**_


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